


Untitled

by Lararaider7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romance, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:59:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13643406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lararaider7/pseuds/Lararaider7
Summary: 6th year. A year of revelations and changes. Hermione thought she had just one problem to worry about: impending war. She never expected everything would change with the appearance of the last person she thought she’d see back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. These characters and none of the HP plot is mine. I've only decided to play with them for a short while.

 

Chapter 1

 

“Another stop Hermione? Really?!”

Her eyes glance upwards at Ron, already lugging away his cart and passing Harry beside the Hogwarts Express sign. Harry trots a bit slower, as if trying to wait for her, but her situation isn’t helping at all. Her parchment case had opened again. Well actually, it had broken again and the writing filled loose papers were threatening to spill out. She's left to maneuver everything rather uncomfortably with her elbow to close the case, as her hands are already full of oversized textbooks. 

“I could get a step up with some help,” Hermione muttered, to no one in particular. Wishing she‘d grow a third arm she hauls the case on top of her cart, and pressed the two parts close with her elbow against the cart’s handle. Her wand is tucked safely on her biggest suitcase. The train horned again, signaling it was close to departure. She stole a quick glance around. The place was filled with running students and nerve-wracked parents. Nobody was looking. She could steal a quick moment and make a non-verbal incantation without anybody noticing. 

Nonverbal spells, albeit not illegal, weren’t regarded as a noble ability amongst the magic community, if you weren’t a very powerful and recognized wizard. They had been initiated by a group of Dark Wizards in the beginnings of the Wizarding World. Hermione had found a book by accident in the Library during her fifth year and the subject had interested her so much, she began to practice all the methods and had even managed to do simple charms during the first months until she became quite decent at it. She never did it in public, even though she found the whole stigma against them stupid and meaningless. Besides, it was an easy incantation and her arms were hurting. 

“Accingatur vinculum”, she whispers and automatically feels the stretch of magic in her body. Even with such simple spells, using nonverbal incantations always gives her a thrill up her spine. Instantly, a small belt appears from between the two packages, entwining itself tightly around them. Her wand popped off from one of the edges of the carriage and slithered along to Hermione’s hand. 

“Needs an alarm, this one, eh mate?” Ron murmurs to Harry when she finally caught up with them. They had already reached the line to the train and had saved her a spot. 

“I would have been faster if I had some proper help, thank you very much,” she says, a bit winded from the short sprint. 

“We ain’t going to last you forever Hermione. You might as well start brewing a cloning tonic before you get lost and left in Hogsmeade.” Harry, in his very neutral 'I'm a friend of both of ya' don't drag me into this' keeps a smile on his face, amused at the usual bicker of the two while Ron kept on.

“If that were to happen, I’d clone three of me, thanks”, she says huffily. 

“Not one of me, then?” asks Harry, mocking a frown at not being acknowledged for support. 

“Not one of you, boy”, she replies, “given that Mr. Potter was also too busy to help.” She takes two quick steps ahead of them and boards. 

“He’s just picking the right side, love.” interjected Ron. 

She frowned at ‘love’ and was about to say something, but the welcoming guard, a tall, lanky old man with colored patches on his jacket directed them to their seats. 

~~

Sixth Year. 

Hermione had assured her parents as best as she could of her safety after returning to the Wizarding World. She also tried the lessen as much as she could the gravity of the impending war and the fact that she was probably going to participate the most. ‘I’ll be all right. Our side is very strong. We will win.’ she had told them. Hasty words to a bleak outcome. Ecstatic smile, constant chatter about classes, N.E.W.T.s, and comprehensive lists about materials and books all helped in her in keeping distracted and an effort to maintain some resemblance of normality.

Ginny had asked for one too and she had happily obliged. The more work the merrier, she thought.

Hermione couldn’t manage to think through what might happen to them in the coming months. Especially Harry. In the months closest to the start of classes he had become quieter, more anxious. Any surface was there to tap, any opportunity taken to be in solitude. One night, while they were staying at the Weasley’s for a campfire, she went for him, pretty unimpressed at his weak excuse of going in to put some dishes in the washer. She had walked all over the cottage, peered into Ron’s room, and found him scribbling furiously on a black journal. Two hard knocks on the wooden door, and his pen went flying at his surprise. But he did show it to her, almost completely full with passages, lengthy descriptions of dangerous situations and strategies of possible battles and escapes depending on their location and volume of people.

“I want to be ready, Mione”, he had told her in a hushed voice. As if the Dark Eaters themselves were roaming in the hallway. “It’s not me. It’s not just me that’s at stake if this war starts. Everyone is involved. It’s Ron, and, and Ginny and the family and you and your family, and the Order-“

She tried to calm him down. Perplexed that he was realizing this at this point in time and unsettled that his words had also uncovered a small visage of naiveté on her part. Because there was no Order of the Phoenix, no spell, no power could ensure the safety of anyone of their friends and family, their acquaintances, their enemies. Not even the ghosts of those enemies. Her heart raced, disturbing her. Everyone is in danger, she had realized that night. But really, realized. She focused on her best friend. And tried to get him to explain his tactics illegibly scribbled on that notebook, while thinking at the same time how in the world they were going to destroy Voldemort. 

~~

'Anything that was going to happen they couldn’t be more ready', Hermione thinks, taking out her Pithagorean Arithmancy book and scampering the memory away with the sways of the racing train. Because now, they are together. 

“Frog tongue ‘Mione?” She swears she felt a drop of spit land in her collarbone as Ron offered her an eaten piece of green chocolate. Her eyes flicker from the melting chocolate in his fingers to his chewing cheek. “No, thanks”. Ron, who hadn’t gone off his joking mood, presses on. “You need to get some fat in ya, ‘Mione, for when were conquering the world.” Harry tenses slightly beside her but keeps looking for a packet of sweets. Ron could be so dense at times. 

“A wand doesn’t need to get fat, Ronald.” 

“Yeah, but you’re arm does, with all that flicking and moving you’ll be doing.” He demonstrates his point by flailing his own arm all around himself.

“Say something, then”, Hermione says with exaggerating excited eyes, ‘Why don’t you go and give me some of yours- she reaches out and touches the lower side of his arm, squeezing the fat there firmly and tugging down. “Could spare some, don't ya' think?.” 

He yelps and drops his chocolate. “Hermione I’m only teasing! Look what you’ve made me do.” Harry was laughing, albeit trying to hide it under his mouthful of sweets. 

“He speaks”, She noted, taking the opportunity. “Or, he laughs.”

He smiles sheepishly at her, “Frog tongue?” 

‘You too, huh’, She narrows her eyes at him, insistent on her subject. “Full, thanks... You’ve been quiet all morning Harry. It’s something the matter?”

He looks down again, pensive. “Is something the matter”, he whispers. Ron had given up on finding his candy tongue and sits again, looking at Harry. After a long minute, though, he smiled at them. “Just, you know, our last year and all.”

Ron chirped before Hermione could interject. “Yeah, it’s cruised by, hasn’t it? This last six?”

“Right past”, Harry says, looking at his hands again. 

“You reckon the Headless Caddie will miss us, Harry? We sure gave him a few laughs.”

“Nah. He’ll probably find some other student to throw his head at.” 

“What about –“ he lifts his legs on the front seat, grazing Hermione’s skirt with the edges of his shoes. 

“Oi, Ron!”

“How about that moaning myrtle? She pretty fancied you for a bit, didn’t she? I’d warn you to stay away from the ladies toilettes this year Harry lest she cut up some of your hair and try to make her own Potter.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, giving up on talking about more serious matters. They should, she knows, but Harry's laughing again. Distracted for a moment from himself and what he usually thinks. She gives her friends a small smile and pitches in. 

“Excuse me - interrupts the truck lady - would any of you like any snacks?”

Ron’s eyes lit up.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. These characters and none of the HP plot is mine. I've only decided to play with them for a short while.

The past two years had changed Hermione a lot. From an overly eager girl focused on attaining the best grades and proving her worth to everyone she had become a self-assured young woman, with fewer priorities than before and unfortunately, more worries. These weren’t differences you could spot at an easy glance. She was still Hermione from Gryffindor. She was still a bookworm. She was still fiercely loyal of her friends and of the whole of good. But her eyes held a certain sharpness to them, she saw it sometimes. She felt now more alert, all of the time. What Harry had told her was right. There wasn’t much point on going back to Hogwarts for them. They should be out there, searching for the Horcruxes themselves. Because she knew that in the end it seemed like Harry, and consequently, Hermione and Ron, would be the ones to end this. But Lupin had assured them, actually managed to convince Harry that strategy and working with the Order were a far better option to win against the Dark Lord’s mounting army, without loosing any lives.

The minute he agreed to wait Hermione knew he regretted it. To go back to Hogwarts and pretend everything was normal? To wait until some signal from the Order told them it was time to fight? 

This deal was not going to last very long. 

It’s already night when the carriages lead them to the Castle. Chatter is scarce, low, and she feels light weight, lingering stares on her back. Ron and Harry are a little ahead, talking to Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom so she walks alone, feeling the night breeze tussle her curls, her feet sinking softly on the moist ground. 

“Hermione Granger!” So much for that. 

“Oh, hello Luna.” she responds. 

“It’s so nice to see you back, Hermione Granger. I thought I was never going to see your face again.” Luna says, and no hint of subtlety is intended. Hermione takes an involuntary glance at her surroundings. She quickly passes over the comment.

‘Well, we’re all here, Luna. How was your summer?”

“Oh, wonderful! I appreciate your asking. Father and I went into some incredibly fructiferous exhibitions in search of Crumple-Horned Snorkack’s down the Boho Caves in Northern Ireland. We… didn’t find any, but my father is sure we did significant progress for his Magnus Catalogue of Mythical Creatures.” Even Hermione has to take a minute to absorb all of this.

“That sounds…very interesting Luna”. 

Luna smiles, her dazed look a trademark of her thinking progress and - “How was-“

“Dear students, gather round!” Professor McGonagall greets, dressed in her usual somber attire, from the top of the hall entrance. She takes a long look around the crowd. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! – a slew of cheers and yells is heard throughout. “We hope you’ve all had a good trip and are ready to take on another year full of learning and magical experiences. I hope you’re ready and excited for the ceremonies ahead. We have quite a full evening before you can get some rest, so if you would all please go to your year prefects and gather on the vestibule for further instruction. I trust everyone has their sent information with them, as required in said envelope.” 

“See you later Luna” Hermione calls back to the blonde girl and moves to find her fellow housemates.

The moment McGonagall resumes her greeting the bustle of the students irrupts along the corridor. It moves into the vestibule and she scans the crowded room for the boys all the while being pushed. Prefects are trying to talk over the bustle of students, signaling the younger and scared ones to follow them. she starts recognizing. Dean Thomas is talking intimately with Cho on one of the stone walls. Antonia Bates from Hufflepuff is hugging that Hannah Abbot girl, squealing and making her jump along with her. She sees Padma Patil, straightening herself off the ground and handing some hair accessories to her sister Parvati who seems to have dropped them, while Anthony Goldstein and that Terry guy look at them from the far wall and grin at each other. 

Wrinkling her nose at usual boy behavior, Hermione focuses on finding any redheaded-shit.

Shit.

It’s not. I can’t be. But no guy at Hogwarts has hair as fair as him. He has his back to her, leaning on the side of the hallway that leads to the dungeons. Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle, in front of him, seem very interested in whatever he’s saying. He’s folding and stretching his arms casually, like retelling some great heroic tale of trumping wars. Instinctively, she jerks back. A wave of mixed emotions has collided inside, unsettling her. 

What the fuck is he doing here? 

This fucking liar. 

She gives up on her search of Harry and Ron and turns to bolt to the dormitories. They’ll know where to find her. In the worst most perfect timing ever, she bumps hard into Ginny Weasley. 

“Ouch--Hermione!” She exclaims, a little bit too loud for her current needs. “Finally found you! Don’t tell me you’ve gone lost, now?”

She keeps walking and beckons the red head to follow her. The walls feel too empty to hide. “No no, I just, I was looking for your brother. I guess they’ve all gone to the Common Room, yes?”

“Yes. They were looking for you, but I told them I’d find you.”

“Well, you rightly did. Shall we? I’m hungry.”

They resume their pace towards the Griffyndor corridors. Her muscles relax the more she’s out of sight. Now, she’s to see her friends. She’s to get dressed. And she’s to enjoy her first night at her home. 

A pair of piercing grey eyes follow them as they reach the stairs. 

~~

“Welcome back, Draco” a brown haired girl cooes at him, showing him a sultry smile and a glint in her eye. They’re ascending towards their first night in the Great Hall but already Draco has gotten welcoming greets from the Slytherins, menacing stares from Gryffindors and Hufflepuff and special invitations from girls of the four houses. 

He smirks fondly, but doesn’t spare a glance at this one. It makes him chuckle though; how fucking easy some girls had it for him. How ready they seemed to be when they saw him. How fucking needy they all were. 

“No welcome speech for me sweetheart?!” Blaise calls out, making as if to turn back to the retreating girl, but she’s already rounding out the corner. 

“She’s not interested Zabini” drawls Pansy, on the other side of Draco, tense as always, arrogance dripping of her jet black ends. “Can’t you see she was taking her knickers off for blondie over here?”

“Oooff, Pansy, how bitter. At least be subtle about it.” says Blaise. 

She instantly blushes a crimson red, a rather pretty sight with her signature black bob. Draco used to like making her red for other reasons. 

“Eh, Fuck you? I’m just saying. Some girls are too fucking dense to know where their standards lie. As if.” 

No, Parkinson does not have a strong grasp on subtlety. ‘Still bitter.’ Draco thinks. ‘It’s getting fucking embarrassing.’ Although, any occasion to incense Parkinson was bound to be entertaining so-

“Who was that, anyways, Blaise?” he says, as if a sudden spike has gotten his attention. She, as he expected it, scoffs at the sequence. 

“Lerida Vellevue, -says his friend instantly, as if recited from a catalogue- 5th year transfer from Beauxbeatons. I hear she’s a very giving individual.”

He feigns interest. “Hmmhm…. interesting.”

She murmurs something in a huff. Spot on. Although nothing about this is really very interesting. They have remained a sort of acquaintance after he broke it off with her, and afterwards she proceeded to date several other guys from the house. Still, irritation radiated off of her every time Draco showed interest in someone. Pansy was a an open book with emotions and no restraint for impulse. Draco had adviced her once about it after almost getting expelled for slapping Argonia Lone from Hufflepuff in Herbology. If Pans could learn to relax and keep her legs open for him, he might not have left her. 

The mindless chatter with these two is worth it, though. It provides a fruitful distraction to his quickened pulse and the sweat that was beginning to dry from his tense palms, as well as the sudden dryness that settled in his throat when he saw her.

He wished he could have seen her face. Because she must have seen him, definitely. And even if she didn’t she was bound to in the Great Hall. Surprise might be an understatement. If he fancies, he can almost trace her expression, confusion and surprise and bewilderment perfectly materialized in a pair of wide eyes and soft lips, slightly opened at a loss for words. 

Naïve. Very uncharacteristic of her, but at the same time very fitting for the moment. Just like she looked that night. Before-

Stop. He scratches his throat, distracting himself from the memory with the feeling of his fingernails.   
Push the thoughts away with the present conversation. 

Pansy was talking again. Great. 

“-and my father says our uncle has joined, but doesn’t want to say anything to not spoil the surprise for Christmas vacations.”

“My mother was ballistic when she learned my father had joined.”- Blaise chimed in “–but she was just exaggerating. He sorted her out and calmed her down. Should have seen her though. Hysterical and all that.”

Draco forced a swallow of words down to his stomach. These fucking idiots. They really had no idea. No fucking clue where they and their families were heading. What they were all heading into. It made him sick to just watch. How eager everyone around him was. Taking this fucking war as a sure thing. Already won. Excited as if this was fucking summer wizard camp. How wrong they all were. 

Being a Malfoy had been the best thing that had happened to him. At the same time, having your father become prime Death Eater of the Dark Lord had been the worst thing to have happened to him. Being a Malfoy opened almost all of the doors in the Wizarding World, all of the possibilities to ensure a sweet, easy, successful life. By fear or influence, it really didn’t matter. To live as you please. But being associated with a Death Eater, and one of the highest ranked from the lot was a sentence for life. A sentence of a life of death, deceit, terror, torture. All disguised under the pretense of refinement and immaculate lineage. 

He was next in line. He knew it. His father knew it. Not because Lucius Malfoy was old. Although not in his prime, his father had the force and power necessary to form armies and lead for years. But because the oath of the Death Eater is to guard the Dark Lord’s life at all times, even with their own. 

And they were just about to enter a war. 

Just a reminder. 

And then these, these fucking dolts were talking about it as if it were something like joining and being part of the fucking club, as if it were the best, most exciting thing to ever happen. ‘I hope you all get hexed’, he thinks as Blaise and Pansy discussed which parent would be most probable to get the highest rank. 

‘I hope you all get Avada Kedabra’d on your arses before this shit starts. Before he does it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this story for quite a while now. A big while. Years, baby. I better finish it so I can continue with all of my other half written work. *distressed emoji*


End file.
